


Antagonism

by Misha Berry (MishaDerps)



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Name-Calling, Praise Kink, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Sam and Bucky don't get along, gratuitous use of real-life nicknames, the Avengers gamble on your sex life, until they do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 22:48:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7593250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MishaDerps/pseuds/Misha%20Berry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Antagonism (noun); active hostility or opposition. Synonyms include; hostility, friction, enmity, antipathy, animus, opposition, dissension, rivalry.</p><p>Sam and Bucky's relationship hasn't improved since Civil War. Or has it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Antagonism

**Author's Note:**

> I really love these two and their relationship. It was so much fun to write.

After everything had been smoothed over with the accords and Bucky had been cleared of the charges against him (sort of, he was still under fire for shit he did as the Winter Soldier, but they were working on that), things had mellowed out with the team. Everyone had forgiven Steve and Tony for being the unreasonable, reactionary, bad listeners that they both had been. Steve and Tony forgave each other for everything that had happened. Tony had even tentatively forgiven Bucky for what had happened to his parents, realizing that it wasn’t really his fault (that didn’t mean they were pals, but it did mean that they weren’t trying to kill each other). Bucky had even forgiven Tony for trying to kill him. All around, there was a lot of forgiveness.

 

Except between Sam and Bucky.

 

For some reason that no one could fathom, Sam and Bucky seemed to despise one another. At first it had been fine, as the two avoided each other like the plague, but as Bucky had become more comfortable in the compound and Steve insisted they try to bond as a team, they couldn’t avoid one another and had resorted to petty pranks.

 

It had started innocuously enough, with simple teasing on Sam’s part;

 

“Sam, can you pass the chips?” Bucky asked.

 

Sam ate another chip from the nearly full bag, “We don’t have any,” he said.

 

“Sam, can I borrow your phone?” Bucky asked.

 

Sam finished sending the text he was composing to Natasha, “I don’t have a phone.”

 

“Sam, can we watch the news?” Bucky asked.

 

Sam flicked between two different channels on the TV, “Remote’s out of batteries.”

 

This had lasted for a while, before Bucky had finally gotten fed up one day.

 

“Sam, can you move over?” he asked, standing at the couch with a bowl of his own popcorn (he’d learned to have his own snacks on movie night).

 

Sam spread himself over as much of the couch as possible, nearly getting a foot in Steve’s lap, “No room,” he said, not even glancing at Bucky.

 

The rest of the team had expected Bucky to simply sit on the floor, at Natasha or Steve’s feet, like he usually did. This time, however, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, like he was trying to keep from reaching out and snapping Sam’s neck. Instead of doing that, he turned and plopped himself down right on top of Sam.

 

Though his action had caused initial chaos, the two of them had stayed that way through the entire movie, both too stubborn to give it up. This sparked a whole new form of entertainment for the team.

 

“Can you pass the cereal?” Bucky asked, taking the milk from the fridge.

 

Sam raised an eyebrow and poured the entire half-box of Mini-Wheats into his bowl, “There’s none left,” he said, glaring at Bucky.

 

Bucky mirrored the glare, “Just as well, there’s no milk,” he said, popping the cap off and proceeding to down the entire 2/3rds full carton.

 

This went on for a few weeks before it escalated from passive-aggressive snark to outright aggressive pranks. It was actually Bucky who started that fight.

 

“No sugar left,” Sam muttered, swiping the sugar dish and carrying it with him over to the cabinet.

 

While he was fishing around for his cookies, his back turned, Bucky uncapped the salt shaker and dumped it into Sam’s coffee. He managed to stir it a bit before Sam turned and came back, looking as innocent as a man with a metal arm could look innocent. Sam took a one sip of his coffee and choked. The spray managed to get on Steve, Scott, and Clint (miraculously missing Natasha, who was seated between Scott and Clint) and the ensuing chase through the compound lasted over an hour.

 

The pranks were tame enough, no one seemed like they were actively trying to kill each other, so the rest of the Avengers stayed out of it. In fact, they rather endorsed it, enjoying the spats the two of them got into. Only Steve seemed to bemoan his two friends not getting along.

 

“I don't get it. Why can’t they just be friends?” Steve groaned, settling back into Tony’s numerous pillows.

 

“Don’t know what to tell you, champ,” Tony said, rolling over and throwing an arm over Steve’s sweaty chest, “Frankly, I’m a little concerned that you're concerned about it  _ now _ of all times. Seriously Steve, get your head in the game.”

 

Steve grumbled, then thought for a second, “Was that  _ High School Musical _ ?”

 

“He learns,” Tony chuckled, “Really Steve, I bet you ten bucks that they’re secretly best friends who just love messing with each other.”

 

“Maybe,” Steve said, but he didn’t sound convinced at all. The best thing for that, Tony decided, was another round of vigorous, distracting love-making.

 

And so life went on. Bucky salted Sam’s coffee, Sam retaliated with saran-wrapping Bucky’s toilet. Sam taped Bucky’s door shut, Bucky hacked into Sam’s phone (with Tony’s help), changed the ringtone to ‘Barbie Girl’, and called him at inappropriate times. Bucky put sticky notes on everything Sam owned (everything), Sam stole all of Bucky’s pillows, cushions, blankets, and sheets. Sam had Redwing follow Bucky around for a full day shooting nerf darts at him, Bucky filled Sam’s room, locker, and even his car with ball-pit balls. Sam stole all of Bucky’s left shoes and right socks, Bucky rearranged Sam’s furniture. The pranks went on and on.

 

Somewhere between Sam covering Bucky’s metal arm with fridge magnets while he was taking a nap and The Shower Incident, Sam and Bucky stopped calling each other by name and started using nicknames.

 

“Yo, Frosty the Soldier, get your feet off the table. That’s disgusting.”

 

“Hey Birdman, move your ass over and make room or I’ll sit on you again.”

 

“Have some gum, Robocop. Your breath smells like ass.”

 

“You know Pigeon, you should really cut down on all the snacks. You’re starting to get fat.”

 

“Vanilla Ice.”

 

“Chocolachino.”

 

Still, they didn't seem like they were trying to hurt each other, so the team let it be. Even Steve eventually came to accept that Sam and Bucky would never get along with each other. No one was really sure why, but Sam and Bucky did not, and would probably never, stop harassing the shit out of each other.

 

So, when Steve came down into communal kitchen one day to see Bucky standing next to the fridge, a popsicle in his flesh hand and his metal one shoved deep into the freezer, he shouldn’t have been surprised.

 

“What’cha doing there, Buck?” he asked, walking around to the sink to make some coffee.

 

Bucky slurped at his popsicle, “Freezing my hand,” he answered, casual as can be.

 

“Oh,” Steve said, filling the carafe with water, “Can I ask why?”

 

Bucky grinned in a way that made Steve’s heart clench a little, reminded of the mischief he and Bucky would get up to in their youth, “Gonna mess with Feathers.”

 

Steve held back a sigh, knowing it was useless to try and talk him out of it, “Have fun,” he said, pouring the water into the machine.

 

Bucky only grinned some more and finished his popsicle. He pulled his metal hand out from the freezer, satisfied with the way tiny puffs of mist that came of off of the metal. He closed the freezer, tossed the popsicle stick away, and left the kitchen.

 

He found Sam five minutes later, chatting with T’Challa (visiting from Wakanda to discuss joining the Avengers on a part-time basis) in one of the open lounges. Shifting his weight to make no noise, he snuck around behind Sam and crept up. T’Challa noticed him, but he’d become aware of Sam and Bucky’s antagonism and decided not to get into it. He made no movements towards Sam to let him know that Bucky was creeping up on him.

 

Bucky decided he liked T’Challa in that moment.

 

When he had finally gotten close enough, Bucky quickly stuck his hand under Sam’s T-shirt and pressed his ice-cold metal fingers against Sam’s warm back.

 

Sam let out what could only be described as a high-pitched squeal, leaping several feet into the air. T’Challa only managed to not be kicked in the face with his cat-like reflexes, ducking out of the just in time. Bucky howled with laughter, already running.

 

“BARNES! YOU’RE SO DEAD, SNOWBALL!” Sam shouted, tearing after Bucky, “IMMA SEND YOU BACK TO MOTHER RUSSIA IN A BOX!”

 

Bucky only cackled and ran through compound, dodging around the others with a grace that seemed unnatural from a guy his size. He nearly collided with Scott, but the man managed to flail out of the way before they could bump into each other. Sam was hot on his heels though, and everyone watched as they raced through the compound.

 

“If you two break anything, you’re  _ both _ dead meat!” Tony called after them as they rushed past him.

 

Even a super soldier had to slip up sometime though, and Sam finally caught up to Bucky in a secluded hall, “Gotcha!” he crowed triumphantly.

 

Bucky tried to slip away, but Sam held fast and they tumbled to the (luckily carpeted) floor. Bucky was still laughing even as Sam took hold of his shirt collar and shook him.

 

“You piece of shit, I should kill you!” Sam shouted, swinging a leg over Bucky’s body and straddling him. He sat himself down on Bucky’s lower stomach, not caring if he crushed the other man beneath him.

 

Bucky was still laughing, “Oh my God the  _ noise _ you made!” he said between his laughter, “What I would give to have seen your  _ face _ !”

 

“Shut up!” Sam hissed, “You fucking asshole, I nearly kicked T’Challa in the face!”

 

“Trust me, T-Challa can take a kick to the face,” Bucky said, “You have to admit this was one of my better ones.”

 

“Fuck you!” Sam shouted.

 

Bucky grinned, big and bright and full of smug mischief, “That was the plan.”

 

Sam growled, fingers tightening in Bucky’s shirt, “I hate you,” he hissed, leaning down to smash their lips together.

 

Bucky grinned into the kiss; it was rough and sloppy, with a lot of teeth and tongue. Bucky brought his hands up to cup Sam’s ass.

 

Sam huffed and pulled away, “Your hand is still fucking cold,” he said, yanking Bucky’s shirt up over his head. He was pretty sure he heard a seam rip.

 

Bucky chucked, “Not doing it for you? You know I heard of this thing recently called temperature play.”

 

“You need to Stop. Talking,” Sam growled, pulling his own shirt off. Bucky only grinned and ran his metal hand up Sam’s ribs. The darker man held back a yelp and pinned the hand down, “Knock it off.”

 

“Kinky.” Bucky licked his lips. He paused for a second, seeming to realize something, “We should get out of the hallway.”

 

Sam paused as well; he looked like he was about to argue, as was the nature of their relationship, but he sighed and got up, “Fine. My room.”

 

Bucky grabbed both of their shirts and stood, “Mine’s cleaner.”

 

“Mine’s closer,” Sam pointed out, grinning.

 

Bucky grumbled, “Fine,” he said, “But I want to use that vanilla lube you have.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes, “Fine,” he said, “Let’s go.” He took his shirt from Bucky and started walking down the hall, not bothering to check if the other was following. They turned the corner and nearly crashed into Wanda.

 

Wanda jumped back in time not to be bowled over by the two larger bodies. Sam and Bucky both stopped, knowing what they looked like; both with swollen, kiss-stung lips and their shirts off. Bucky’s hair was messier than usual and they were both flushed with mild arousal.

 

Wanda raised a distinctly unimpressed eyebrow at them (she must have been taking lessons from Natasha because  _ damn _ ), “You should know that this means that Tony and Clint won the betting pool.”

 

“Tony  _ and _ Clint? Fuck, we’ll never hear the end of it,” Bucky groaned. Sam nearly turned around and slapped him.

 

Muttering some form of apology to Wanda, Sam grabbed Bucky’s hand and pulled him away. He had a problem in his pants that Bucky was responsible for and took precedence over the fact that the team had been betting on their sex life. He dragged the super soldier through the halls, luckily not encountering anyone else and finally getting to Sam’s room. Bucky barely had time to shut the door and lock it before Sam rounded on him and was kissing him again.

 

“You are an asshole and I hate you,” Sam growled against his mouth. He dropped his shirt (still clutched in his hand) and ran his hands all over Bucky’s muscled chest. He tore his lips away from his mouth to bite and suck along the line of his neck.

 

Bucky arched into the touch, “Mm, calm down Birdbrain, before you fly into a window,”

 

Sam bit down on Bucky’s neck, hard, leaving a dark purple mark and bringing forth a whine from Bucky’s throat, “Keep that up and and you get regular lube,” he said.

 

Mercifully, Bucky didn’t say anything, and simply let Sam mark up his neck and collar. They would fade long before anyone saw them, the wonders of super soldier healing at it again, but Bucky enjoyed them while they were there. Another harsh bite and he groaned, bringing his hands up to rub Sam’s sides and back.

 

Sam jumped back, “Fuck man, stop doing that,” he said, “Your hand is still cold as fuck.”

 

Bucky pouted, now regretting his prank. As if sensing the complaint coming, Sam cut him off, “It’s your own fault, so don't bitch to me about it.”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. He reached out with his flesh hand and pulled Sam close again. Their lips connected and Bucky almost wanted to remove the metal arm completely with how hard it was to keep his hands off of Sam. He ducked his head and started licking and sucking at the dark skin bared to him. Sam groaned and arched his neck, bringing a hand up to tangle in Bucky’s nest of a head of hair.

 

“What did I tell you, man? You need to condition,” Sam said, gripping a handful. Gently, so he didn't yank too hard.

 

Bucky hummed, “Keep forgetting,” he said, licking a stripe up Sam’s neck to his ear. He nibbled at it and pressed his hips into Sam’s, grinding their pelvises together.

 

Sam moaned, feeling Bucky’s erection through his jeans. He was no better off, throbbing in his pants, arousal making his head spin, “Get on the bed,” he said before he could stop himself.

 

Bucky stiffened and Sam quickly rephrased, “Let’s go to the bed.” He’d learned through a few false starts that Bucky didn't take well to being ordered around or directed. Probably a leftover from his time as a mindless drone that never questioned orders and carried out brutal missions. Sam wasn't a total asshole, so he avoided using anything that could be a direct command. Something were fine in the right context, but in the bedroom Sam let Bucky follow his own direction in what happened.

 

Bucky stayed tense for another drawn out minute, enough time stretching out that Sam worried for a second that he might have to bring him down from wherever he went, but finally relaxed, “Yeah, bed,” he breathed, sliding around Sam and plopping himself down on the bed.

 

Sam watched him for a second, looking for traces of a panic or a flashback. Finding none, he reached for his pants and stripped out of them, “Gonna make me do all the work?” he asked.

 

“Yup.” Bucky grinned, falling back on the bed and wiggling his hips a little

 

Sam rolled his eyes, “Figures,” he grumbled.

 

He stepped out of his pants and socks, leaving him in just his underwear. He braced one knee on the bed near Bucky’s hip and pushed his other leg between his muscular thighs. Bending down, he licked short stripes across Bucky’s belly as he worked his jeans open. Bucky helpfully lifted his hips as Sam pulled them down and tossed them away. He trailed his mouth further down, feeling the scratch of happy trail under his lips. When he reached the waistband of Bucky’s boxers, he felt a calloused hand cup the back of his head.

 

Sam flushed a little; for every ten moments where they were taking the piss out of each other, there was one moment of sweetness that Sam could never just ignore. The contrast between them could be jarring, but Sam was man enough to admit to himself (and to himself only) that he loved it.

 

Blunt nails scraped against his head, reminding him that he had a job to do, and his ‘customer’ was getting impatient. Sam tugged Bucky’s boxers down and ducked his head, wasting no time in swallowing Bucky’s erection down.

 

Bucky moaned and arched, thrusting his hips up. Sam choked a little and growled, but didn’t try to hold Bucky down, knowing that it would both be useless and unappreciated. Bucky stilled himself on his own, gripping the sheets in his metal hand and clutching at Sam with the other.

 

Sam pulled away for a second, “Hey, try not to rip my sheets, again,” he said, breath puffing over the spit-slick cock.

 

Bucky moaned, “No promises,” he huffed out, chuckling a little.

 

Sam glared, “Rip my sheets and I’ll kick you out,” he promised, before taking Bucky’s dick back into his mouth.

 

“Mm, so good,” Bucky purred, “Your lips look so good stretched around my dick.”

 

Sam groaned, hips stuttering a little. It hadn’t taken long for Bucky to figure out his praise kink, and he used it to his advantage whenever they fell into bed (or floor or wall or showers) together. He trailed his own hand down his stomach, rubbing at his own clothed erection as he sucked and hummed around Bucky.

 

“Fuck yeah, that’s good. You’re so good at this,” Bucky moaned, “So good at sucking my dick.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes behind his eyelids. He pulled away, grabbing Bucky’s thigh and lifting it, “Clean down there?”

 

“Yeah, made sure just before I froze my hand,” Bucky answered, shivering a little in anticipation.

 

Sam let out a pleased hum and ducked down to lick at Bucky’s dry hole, feeling the muscle clench under his tongue. Bucky moaned and spread his legs further, hips jerking, trying to get Sam closer.

 

“Fuck I love your tongue,” Bucky breathed, “So fucking good.”

 

“Man, you love getting eaten out, don’t you?” Sam rumbled back, pausing for a moment before going back to wriggling his tongue around Bucky’s slowly relaxing hole.

 

“Fuck yes,” Bucky groaned, “Love it when you eat me out. Fuck you’re so good to me.”

 

Sam hummed and pushed his tongue into Bucky’s entrance, licking in as far as he could go. Bucky choked back a cry, trying not to thrash around. Sam pulled away and reached over to his bedside drawer.

 

“The vanilla lube,” Bucky said, scooting up the bed so they were no longer half off of it.

 

“Yeah yeah, whatever, Vanilla Ice,” Sam said, pulling out the quickly dwindling bottle of vanilla lube.

 

Bucky grinned and ran his flesh hand up Sam’s stomach and chest, licking his lips at the sight of the slightly shiny-with-sweat chocolate-coloured skin, “Chocolachino.”

 

Sam smirked, pouring lube over his fingers, the scent of vanilla floating into the air, “And just as tasty,” he said.

 

Sam bent back down over Bucky, catching his lips in a filthy kiss before sliding back down his body. He slid a slicked finger into Bucky at the same time and pace as he slid his mouth down Bucky’s twitching cock. He hummed and kept the pace, sliding his mouth on and off of the leaking erection at the same rate he thrusted his finger in and out of Bucky’s tight ass. Bucky groaned and tried to thrust up into Sam’s mouth and grind down into his fingers at the same time.

 

Sam added another finger and Bucky babbled, “So good. So fucking good. You’re so good at this, fuck,  _ fuck _ !” he cried, “Feels so good, c’mon, fuck me. I’m ready, fuck me.”

 

“Impatient,” Sam murmured, thrusting a third finger into him, “Don’t want to tear that ass, do we?”

 

Bucky moaned, “You know I can take it. I’m still a little loose from yesterday. You fucked me so good.”

 

Sam shivered, “Yeah? It felt good when I pounded your ass?”

 

“Mmm  _ yeah _ , felt amazing. Your cock is so good, fills me up so nice,” Bucky hummed, wiggling his hips, “You’re so good at fucking me.”

 

Sam made a noise deep in his chest and went back to sucking Bucky’s cock as he prepped him. The paler man continued to babble his praises as he did so, working him open until he couldn't wait anymore.

 

Pulling away, Sam finally shucked his underwear, hissing at the release of pressure. Bucky took the reprieve as an opportunity to grab a pillow and shove it under his hips for more leverage. Sam poured more lube onto his cock and took a stuttering breath as he stroked himself to coat the slick over it. He squeezed the base, trying to calm down a little so he didn’t end this too quickly on accident.

 

Grabbing Bucky’s muscular thighs, he lifted and settled between them, thrusting shallowly against the crease of Bucky’s ass. The flared head of his cock caught at the rim of Bucky’s hole, making him jerk.

 

“C’mon, babe,” Bucky whined, wrapping his legs around Sam’s wide hips, “Fuck me, please,  _ Sam _ .”

 

Sam groaned, “Yeah, hang on,” he said, more breath than voice. Reaching down and aligning himself properly, he finally pressed inside.

 

Sam bit down on his lip to the point of nearly drawing blood, trying not to come right there. Bucky was as tight and warm as always, moaning and thrashing underneath him wantonly. His legs locked around Sam’s hips, keeping him deep inside.

 

“Oh~ Sam,  _ Sam _ ! You're so good. So fucking big! Fuck you stretch me so good,” Bucky moaned, tossing his right arm around Sam’s shoulders. The left, the metal one, stayed down, fingers twisting in the sheets.

 

Sam grunted, “Can you loosen your legs a bit? Can’t move for shit,” he said, managing only shallow thrusts.

 

Bucky huffed at him, but complied. Sam pulled back slightly and grabbed him by the backs of his knees, lifting them up. The angle changed and Sam cock brushed against Bucky’s prostate, causing a full body twitch in the paler man.

 

“Oh!” Bucky yelped, “Fuck! Oh Sam!”

 

“Like that?” Sam thrust his hips slowly, dragging it out, “You like that?”

 

Bucky flashed him a sultry grin, “Fucking love it. Fuck me, c’mon, fuck me nice and hard!”

 

Sam sucked in a breath and did just that, picking up the pace and slamming into Bucky. He was never more glad that Tony had sound-proofed all of the living suites in the compound, because  _ fuck _ Bucky was loud. He cried out and let out broken fragments of sentences, mostly praising Sam and his cock, all while arching his back and grinding down onto aforementioned cock.

 

“Oh, so close! So close already! Sam, you’re so good! So fucking good!” Bucky moaned out between his panting breaths.

 

Sam grunted and thrusted faster, trying to hold off his own orgasm until Bucky came. Stupid gendered macho bullshit, he knew, but he still wanted to watch Bucky come undone under him. The ultimate praise to him was seeing his partner shatter and come apart and knowing that he did that to them; Sam loved it. Dropping Bucky’s legs and shifting his weight forward to lean on one hand, Sam snuck a hand around to grip Bucky’s dribbling erection, jerking it clumsily.

 

Barely four strokes in and Bucky arched and snapped, striping his belly and chest with his own come. He clenched down on Sam’s dick, sending not sparks of pleasure up Sam’s spine. He thrusted twice more before stilling, snapping his hips as close as he could and coming deep inside Bucky.

 

There was a moment where they stayed like that, suspended in the split second of pure pleasure. The instant snapped, however, and they both took a breath, collapsing back onto the bed. Sam flopped down onto Bucky, not caring that he was probably crushing him.

 

Bucky grunted, “Fat,” he complained, but rubbed Sam’s sweat-slick back with his flesh hand anyway.

 

Sam deliberately pressed himself down harder onto him, “You’re heavier than me, I've seen your file.”

 

“I have a metal arm, what’s your excuse?” Bucky huffed.

 

Sam chuckled and finally rolled off of him. He stood and walked, jelly-legged, to the bathroom to get a damp towel. When he came back, Bucky was looking for tears in the sheets.

 

“No rips,” Bucky said proudly, “I’m getting better.”

 

Sam hummed in approval, tossing the damp towel at Bucky and standing back to watch the super soldier clean himself off, muscles flexing as he reached between his legs. Bucky rolled his eyes and tossed the towel at his face.

 

“Stop perving and get over here. Cuddle time.” Bucky patted the bed, scooting over to make room, “Big spoon or little spoon?”

 

Sam laughed, crawling into bed, “Little spoon,” he said, lying down facing away from Bucky, “If I have to wake up with your hair in my mouth again, I’m going to bite it right off.”

 

Bucky chuckled; he turned onto his side and swung his metal arm around Sam’s waist, pulling him close.

 

Sam hissed, “Your hand is still cold, jackass.”

 

* * *

 

When Sam walked into the kitchen the next morning, he knew instantly that it was going to be a terrible day.

 

Seven sets of eyes were on him; Tony and Clint looked like the cats that had got the canary, Wanda and Natasha looked equally unimpressed and yet somehow smugly amused (it was a little scary how much Wanda had taken after Natasha), Scott just looked like he was anticipating some of the greatest entertainment in the world, T’Challa only watched them, curious to see how things would play out, Rhodey kept his eyes on his breakfast, and Steve . . . 

 

Steve beamed like Christmas and his birthday had come all at once.

 

Sam groaned and braced himself for the barrage of teasing that was sure to come. Bucky appeared at his shoulder just in time for Steve to hop out of his chair and cross over to them. Sam’s breath left him in a whoosh as Steve wrapped them both in a bear hug.

 

“I’m so glad you two don’t hate each other,” he said, squeezing them both too tightly, “I wish you would have told me.”

 

Bucky thumped Steve’s back affectionately, “We were having too much fun,” he said.

 

“Speak for yourself,” Sam gasped when Steve finally let them go. He ignored the others balant staring and walked over to the coffee machine to get himself the biggest mug of coffee he could.

 

He was going to need it.

 

“Aw c’mon,” Bucky chuckled, “You know you were having just as much fun as me.” His grin turned sinister, “Weren’t you,  _ schnookums _ .”

 

Sam couldn't control the full body shudder that raced through him, “I swear to God, if you  _ ever  _ call me that again I will find a way to magnetize you to the top of the Empire State Building.”

 

Bucky mock-pouted, “Aw, but  _ babe _ , why you gotta be like that?” he whined, getting into Sam’s space, “You’re usually so cuddly in the morning.”

 

Bucky leaned in and Sam realized that he was going to try and kiss him, in front of the entire team. Sam was a split second faster and managed to grab the spray-cheese (you’re disgusting Clint) and let loose before Bucky could embarrass them both.

 

Bucky jolted back, having ended up with a load of spray-cheese (seriously Clint, gross) to the face. He blinked, before glaring at Sam and wiping his mouth.

 

“Okay, this means  _ war _ ,” he growled.

 

Steve sighed as Sam bolted from the kitchen, Bucky hot on his heels, “So much for getting along.”

**Author's Note:**

> Doot doot, this was basically a break from more serious writing that I have planned. It's always nice to take a break from angst and write some goofy smut.


End file.
